


Care to Try, Valentine?

by Grain_Crain



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29448330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grain_Crain/pseuds/Grain_Crain
Summary: Caveira didn't really care for Valentine's Day. That's okay, because here comes one (1) charming cinnamon  roll who made her care.
Relationships: Taina "Caveira" Pereira/Emmanuelle "Twitch" Pichon
Comments: 13
Kudos: 37





	Care to Try, Valentine?

**Author's Note:**

> I give my fullest gratitude to [Dagoth-Menthol](https://dagoth-menthol.tumblr.com/) and [kiki_92](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiki_92/pseuds/kiki_92) for proof and beta reading! They're the beacon to my blind eyes ;_;

Let’s set one thing straight. Taina was not a firm believer in cocoa and its supposed magical effect to induce romance. There was nothing special about some Catholic inspired day that devolved into a marketing scheme. Not saying that she believed in Jesus enough to act on his defense, but she was damn sure that saint Valentine didn’t bust his ass to have his funeral day stained with pink and brown until the end of capitalism. Whoever came up with the idea that chocolates will have people sticking their tongue into each other's throats; they should congratulate themselves for an easy money making scheme. Florists, restaurateurs and theme park owners may as well bow before the genius marketing strategist. For she didn’t care for the occasion, Valentine's day left its impression on her as a theme for the month. She never cared for the date in numbers.

Romance had been a far-fetched concept for a busybody like Caveira, but we all know how love works, or at least the nature of infatuation. One begins to crave, thirst or ache. Unfortunately for Taina, she found herself to have all three symptoms for a certain French. The nosy, noisy and naive _Emmanuelle Pichon. Who has the time to giggle on Monday morning? Prolong endless chatter at the workshop after a long day of training?_ _Share kind remarks and high fives after each mission?_ _Who does that?_ Many claimed Twitch to be the embodiment of sunshine and positivity, and yet Caveira regarded her as a blatant optimist. The sort who urged to be the cheer upper for everybody’s sake while raising their self-image. Twitch’s behaviour didn’t seem all too different from the hypocrites that rattled Caveira’s cynicism, so she kept their distance as coworkers do. She interrogated and Twitch's drone kept finding her. It was strictly professional, work related cat and mouse chase. No hard feelings when Caveira shoved her knife close to the French’s neck. No hard feelings at all, as Caveira expected Twitch to laugh it off to earn some consoling from her group of sunshines.

Then one day after a winning match for the defenders, Caveira felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see Twitch without the balaclava, and the sweat-caked brown curls, “Hey, nice job. You really keep me on my feet.”

Up until this point, compliments didn’t hold much value to Caveira; and yet it held some weight when Twitch nodded with a thumbs up. There was nothing special about the interaction. She dared to assume that Twitch was trying to be the bigger person here, but hearing the same encouragement whenever the interrogations were successful? Despite Caveira’s reluctance, it started to grow on her. She couldn’t believe Twitch to be the kind who spread good will without any reward, so it was natural for her to observe with more care. Twitch giggled as a courteous reaction to keep a conversation going, no matter how menial the stories were. Her chatters helped others feel more alive through the mundane workload, and the woman had plenty of thoughtful remarks to share around at any given chance. _Who has time for that?_ Certainly Twitch did. 

Taina came to realise that Emmanuelle was fairly popular. Actively assigning herself as a role of social glue, bonding colleagues together for better synergies and rapport. All in good faith, logically understandable, emotionally beneficial, and yet Taina couldn’t help but to feel slightly unsatisfied whenever her and Emmanuelle’s conversations were cut short because of other people. None of them had anything important or urgent to ask from Emmanuelle, and perhaps the colour green had seeped into Taina’s heart from her BOPE insignia. This wasn’t jealousy. She wanted to continue discussing effective strategies for a defense, and those ingrates had to interrupt them. BOPE accepts those of high vigilance, so this was her professionalism speaking rather than impending desire to spend a second more with the charming French. Yes, that had been a convenient excuse to avoid admitting her bias until the old geezer spelled it out for Taina one afternoon, “You’re staring.”

“I always stare. Tell me something I don’t know, or I will dump your entire cigar in the toilet.” Taina wasn’t in a mood to humour him.

Vicente rubbed on the pocket of his pants to tuck his dear tobaccos into safety, “Fierce enough to threaten me, but too soft for a confession. There’s nothing stopping you other than yourself.”

“Confession-” She whipped around and pried her gentle-longing away from Emmanuelle. Only a cold and hardened glare for Vicente, with an extra sprinkle of irritation for someone who pretended to be knowledgeable when he didn’t know jackshit, “Don’t you dare say a word to her.”

“Of course not. The decision is all yours to make,” Fingers drummed against the armrest, then he put out a phone out to check the time, “Just like she can make hers as well.”

Taina also noted that the sun was about to creep down in early evening, “What are you saying?”

“Remember those pastries she shared around for the new year? Pão chocolate. What a chef, that girl.” Those sweet treats gained quite the popularity when they gathered for the countdown. 

“It’s pain au chocolat. Not Portuguese.”

Vicente stuck a pinky into his ear, “Sounds the same. They tasted excellent.” And gave it a scratch.

When those scrumptiously golden pastries were offered on a long table, there were enough to go around. Taina had to stash five and wrapped them in cooking paper; partly because of great indulgence, and purely for personally biased reasons, “Yeah, those were good. Pity you couldn’t have more than one.” She boasted sleight-of-hands against her senior, for the sugar wouldn’t have done any good to his age-old arteries. 

“No diabetes for me,” Vicente raised a brow, “But I wonder who gets to taste her chocolate this time.”

“Everybody will. That’s how she is.” She meant to state the obvious. Not annoyed or pouty, at least that’s how she intended to sound.

“I didn’t say pastries. _Chocolate,_ ” He watched her with a scoff, “And I don’t think she will use two trays full to fill a small box.”

“Are you saying that she’s making chocolate? For someone?” A throb struck her chest and she wasn’t sure if it was due to hope or disappointment.

“Could be. It’s the season after all.” He took one sweep around the surroundings and squinted at the pink, heart shaped paper chains that hung around the walls. 

It was the only decoration to commemorate the season. Someone decided to make a half-assed effort on a surface level, to which Taina was thankful for its modesty this year, “It sure is February.”

“Yes, and there are many things on sale. You can make a quick trip to the shops and get something for her.” 

“Right. I’ve heard enough,” With tightened jaw, Taina also felt her neck stiffen as well, “Like that’s gonna happen tonight.”

“Then at least tomorrow. You should try,” Vicente checked his phone again, “There will be hordes of people, but you can handle that.”

“Not when I don’t have to be there,” Being stuck amongst padded coats and windbreakers in a confined shopping mall? _Get the fuck out of here,_ “I will go when it’s not busy, like a day after tomorrow. Now you can stop telling me what to do.”

A pause and two licks on his lips, “No, Taina.”

She held nothing back from giving him the fullest of frowns, “What’s your problem? Is this your new hobby? Being the captain of minding-everybody-else’s-business?”

“Tomorrow is the fourteenth.” Vicente’s hands were clasping together and resting against his lips, as if he was praying for the stubborn woman who had been refusing all the help she needed.

“And?” She grew annoyed more than anything. 

“Lord, save this girl,” He sighed, “That's _the_ Valentine's day.”

* * *

Vicente may lack an eye but his insight is frightfully uncanny. Damn him and whatever he said to set a course of action for her. Despite how she hates to admit the old man’s wisdom, Taina walks over to the communal freezer and finds a small metal tray with diamond-shaped indents. They are all filled up to the brim and tastefully decorated. Milk chocolates have almonds, white are dyed with pink dots and the dark are smooth on the surface; making her wonder about the surprise that might be buried within. Emmanuelle put an immense amount of effort into these, no doubt. And the lucky recipient will feel happy; they must feel happy, or else Taina will not forgive them for being an ingrate. 

Taina had to question whether _her_ effort would be worthwhile. Knowing someone is already occupying Emmanuelle's mind, what use is there for Taina to give a gift of romantic notion? _You should try. No harm in trying._ Yes, there is plenty of harm in ‘trying.’ Like losing the collegial bond and staying awkward until the end of Rainbow. Emmanuelle won’t mind and even reach out again like a good-natured Samaritan that she is, but not Taina. She will end up avoiding the French at any given time, and eventually it will be the cause that creates a rift between them. There’s all the harm in trying. 

Unless Emmanuelle doesn’t have to know. Taina prides herself in being stealthy, so what is stopping her from dropping the present into the GIGN dorm without anyone noticing? She may as well print out a letter rather than writing it by hands, and that will help her to gauge how Emmanuelle would react. Of course the confession is an anonymous one, but still. A part of her admiration can be delivered in such a way, and Taina can work from there. Taking a tiny step out of her shell.

Upon arriving at the kitchen, Taina sees the clock reaching towards ten. A late evening as of now, and it’s the perfect time that’s well after the dinner. She searches through the cabinets and feels relieved to find cans of condensed milk and cocoa powder. Brazilian truffles are easy to make, as her grandmother used to satisfy her grandchildren of many during special occasions. Taina has since learned the recipe but discovered a little shortcut; no butter, no pot. She could mix the dry and wet ingredients together, put it in the fridge for an hour to make the mixture firm enough to be rolled into balls. It is a pity to not have any colourful sprinkles to coat the ball, so she may as well use the cocoa powder again. 

Putting the bowl with condensed milk in the microwave, Taina briefly thinks about the ratio. Is it four to one? Or Two to one? She should have measured how much condensed milk she poured out and decided the amount of cocoa powder to match. Berating her forgetfulness, Taina decides to pour twice as much and see how it turns out. To hell with baking and the exact proportions. In case if this doesn’t work out, she can throw the failures at captain know-it-all for egging her into such stupidity.

When the microwave rings its bell, Taina doesn’t hear the door being creaked open from behind. She nearly shoots an elbow blow at whoever stands close to the fridge, “Something smells good.”

“Oh,” She also has an alarm bell ringing within her head, “Yeah. Sure.” It’s Emmanuelle. _Freaking Emmanuelle Pichon,_ the very person who has no business being in this kitchen and sees whatever Taina is doing for her.

“What are you making?” Of course she would ask. Emmanuelle has to be the nosy intruder, the kind who Taina thought she would never find adorable or endearing. 

“Late night snack.” A horrible lie. It could be convincing if she is heating up a milk, not in its sticky-sweet form. 

Emmanuelle places a hand on the metallic handle, “Do you need anything from the fridge?”

“No. I will use it later.”

“Ah,” Emmanuelle stays quiet with a pause that deafens Taina’s heartbeat, “Alright. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“Nothing. I will be fine.” The steely short responses are cringe-worthy, crumpling her self-conscience into a small clump. The urgency is painting her unkind and rigid towards the lovely woman who is trying to be helpful.

“Of course. Sorry,” Emmanuelle grips harder on the handle and lets go. She sweeps the tiled floor with her heel, then saunters towards the door, “I will see you around. Have a good night.”

As she is about to have the solitude back, Taina grimaces at the clump that’s weighing down on her chest. Hard to swallow and uncomfortable. To hell with making chocolate when the whole process is rendering her a grade-A bitch. _Look at her. Look at that poor girl._ Seeing Emmanuelle under the white fluorescent light is unusual, as Taina’s perspective of the woman is always of the warm sunlight. Along with brown furniture and grey tiles, the air around Emmanuelle harbours chill and casts a lonely shadow below. Whatever the descriptions that come to Taina are mere imageries. Guilt-ridden impressions. And it is wrong to let this slide by, “Wait.”

“Yeah?” Emmanuelle turns ever so slowly, appearing cautious and wary.

“I need your opinion,” An idea sparks, “And maybe a bit of help too. If you please.”

A beam shines upon Emmanuelle. The jovial voice that has been visiting Taina in her dreams, “Sure thing! So what are you making, exactly?”

It doesn’t take a while to explain the simple recipe. Emmanuelle understands what is about to be made, and takes out a butter as means to rub on their hands for kneading later. She recommends four to one ratio, so the truffles will be more chewy even at room temperature, “And it’s kinda fun to eat. My personal preference, though.”

“That’s alright.” Taina nods while taking a mental note that from this day then on, she always goes for more cocoa powder when making this recipe.

As she busily sieves the powders into a different bowl, Emmanuelle flicks a quick glance at Taina, “So who is this for?”

The question has the Brazilian almost choking on her spit, “No one. Late night snack, remember?”

“Come on, hon. This is a lot of work for a quick snack to be enjoyed late at night.”

 _Not now. Not like this,_ “It’s for someone,” Taina muses and exerts more control while stirring the condensed milk, “But I’d like to keep my secret.”

“Oh yeah. That’s fair.” Emmanuelle nods. They continue to work through making the mixture until it’s smooth with some resistance to the silicon spatula. She then adds more powder to stiffen it into a dough-like texture, and then offers to wrap it with clear film before entering the fridge, “So we let it cool down for an hour?”

“That’s how I was taught,” Taina takes a sip of water and offers an empty cup to pour some for Emmanuelle as well, “Thanks for your help. I can do it from here.”

“No worries,” Emmanuelle kneels, opens the dishwasher and takes out a detergent tablet, “I really didn’t do much.”

“You know what,” _Here it comes,_ “Have some when they’re ready. I will leave them on your desk next morning.”

“Really? But I thought it was for someone else.” Although it is hard to see her face, Taina can imagine how Emmanuelle’s mouth is wide agape in surprise.

“There’s plenty to go around. I’m not _that_ selfish.” _This is it._ Roundabout and indirect, but at least she will manage to give her Valentine’s present to the most precious person yet in her life. Taina isn’t sure how many truffles will be made, so maybe she can wrap a couple into a colourful paper for Emmanuelle and eat the other ten as means of emotional support while the woman runs off with whoever she finds dear. 

“Wow. I’m flattered,” After stacking the dirty bowls and utensils into the washer, Emmanuelle stands up and walks to the fridge, “Then you should try mine as well.”

“Oh no, that’s okay.” Taina holds her inner voice that’s eager to accept, “Save it for tomorrow.”

“No, please,” On Emmanuelle’s hand, there rests the same metal tray that Taina spied on earlier, “It’s only fair. Which one would you like? Dark, milk or white?”

“I don’t know if I should-”

“I insist.” There are more than deep green hues that reside upon Emmanuelle’s gaze. Greyish undertones with hints of lighter hue in the centre; a balance of warm and cool, and Taina is aware of how she is a reflection lost in a pair of complex emeralds. 

When given the chance, it would be foolish to not take it. Taina has been curious about the mystery flavour, “Dark one, then.”

The choice has Emmanuelle giddy and excited, “I knew it!” She takes out a toothpick and pries one up.

“You did?” Taina holds a chuckle, restraining what she feels about the other woman’s eagerness.

“Oh, I mean, you seem the type,” Settling herself down, Emmanuelle lets out a dry cough, “Do you like it?”

As the chocolate breaks down, Taina notices the nutty scent that’s not quite almond. Hints of salt and softish chewiness, “Is this pistachio?” Complimentary flavour brings out a smile from her. 

“Yeah. You’re really good at this, aren’t you?” There are two more ready to be eaten, “How about this one?”

“Um-” Taina wonders if it is okay for her to eat chocolates that are probably intended for someone else, but hey. To hell with that lucky bastard and the elated enthusiasm on Emmanuelle is too irresistible to interrupt, “Alright.” Her tongue soon detects chill and it reminds her of toothpaste, “Mint?” An instantaneous frown is hard to be hidden.

“Mm. Not your thing, is it?” Emmanuelle mirrors the expression, “I’m not sure how you’d feel about the last one. But it would make me really happy if you’re willing to try.”

There is something different about the French. Rather than being her usual people-pleaser self, Emmanuelle is quite willful. Exerting what she desires, instead of how Taina might feel about being fed. In no way is this uncomfortable or overbearing for Taina since she quietly wanted this, but that won’t change the fact that the other milk and white chocolates will be for someone else, “Sure. Feed me.” The third is fed by hand, which throws Taina off and sends her pulse into tidal waves. Earthy and grassy. Fragrance that usually comes with boiled water and a mug cup, “Is this a kind of tea?”

“Matcha. Green tea.” The high energy has subdued. Emmanuelle is subtly glowing rather than radiating like she was a few minutes ago. 

“Green tea,” Taina looks into Emmanuelle’s face, “Hey, they’re all green.” _Just like your eyes._

“Uh-huh. Like your emblem,” Averting her attention elsewhere, Emmanuelle scratches on the red tinge around her ears, “But I will take off the mint. How about lime instead? Or kiwifruit?”

“What?” The body language. Those words. Her whole demeanour from being bold to fidgety has Taina confused, but the thrilling anticipation is readily building up and her heart might leap out of her rib cages at any given moment, “I mean, what would they like? It’s not like what I prefer will be the same as whoever you’re giving the chocolates to.” She needs to make an insurance, or else the disappointment will be devastating right this moment.

“What would _you_ like?” A hint. No, that’s more than a clue; an invitation.

“You,” Taina lets go of all inhibition, “I would like you- to have my chocolates. All of them.” Realising how the first half sounded a little sensual, the other half has to be the genuine feelings she has been bottling up. 

“Oh my gosh,” The tray nearly falls down, but Taina catches them by supporting Emmanuelle’s hands, “Oh- sorry. I’m just- I didn’t expect- this is too good to be true.”

Heat swells on Taina’s palms as she rests them on the other woman’s, “Were you going to give these to me tomorrow?”

“I was going to. But when I found out that you had someone else to give, I didn’t know what to do,” The stutter dissipates, but it is transferred to make Emmanuelle tremble ever so slightly, “I know it’s greedy of me, and I really shouldn't have done it. You might have someone else who likes you as well, but I had to take my shot. I guess it’s all fine now that I know we like each other, but still-”

“But you did. You took your chance,” _And you rightfully earned what had been yours_. Taina dares to pull in the woman who is brave, bold and beautiful, “Don’t be afraid to think for yourself. It didn’t hurt to try, did it?”

The tremble melts away as Emmanuelle relaxes within the taller woman’s arms, “Ha, Maybe.” 

_Most definitely._


End file.
